Page 22 of Thief of Dreams
His smile fades. "Let us talk of other things tonight. Let my guards deal with the nightmare."
"In other words, don't worry my pretty little head?"
"Is it pretty?" He savors his wine, his golden eyes watching me. "I hadn't noticed."
"That's because it's up here," I reply, pointing to my face. "And you've been staring at other parts of me tonight."
Keir's eyes light up. "One can hardly fail to notice. I thought I was supposed to stare?"
I tug at my neckline with a growl. The gauzy lace is the color of seafoam and almost as insubstantial. I have to admit it stole my breath when Soraya hauled it out of the trunk, but the neckline dips between my breasts, meeting right at my sternum, where a knot of golden braid hugs my ribs. I've seen less skin at a fleshmongers. "It wasn't my idea, all right? This was what… the maids packed for me."
"Yourmaidshave exquisite taste."
This isn't how the night's supposed to go. I was supposed to throw him off the scent after last night. Be rude, perhaps a little surly. But it's so easy to slip into a faintly flirtatious undertone with him.
Perhaps that's because I'm not the only one who's showing more skin than expected.
Keir has a liking for flowing robes that leave his chest and stomach bare. This one is midnight blue silk, and it highlights every golden inch of his skin. The fae are beautiful, and there's no dearth of exquisite males in the Alliance courts, but there's something unearthly about him that captures the eye—and my breath. Something a little dangerous.
"And you?" he murmurs, as the servants bring forth a series of silver-domed platters. "You claim you're only here to fulfill your father's promise, and have no interest in being chosen unless you're certain of my heart. Unless... there's already a claim upon yours?"
"No claim."
"But you're still wary."
"Would you believe it's you?" I reply as a half dozen plates are set on the tables between us. "Or is that simply impossible for a male of your… esteem?"
"It's a pity," he replies. "Because you certainly entertain me. And no, I won't believe it's me. You've never met me before this Summons. You have no reason to dislike me."
"Perhaps I simply don't enjoy having my chain jerked." There's some truth to the words. "Coming here wasn't my idea. The idea of debasing myself at your feet simply so you'll notice me leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Then there's the fact there are over twenty females here, baying for your attention, and you're certainly not discouraging it."
"How else am I to find the right one?"
"You were going to kiss me last night, weren't you? Before the screaming started. Tell me: How many of the other princesses are you planning to kiss?"
"As many as it takes," he admits. "It's how a male knows."
I stare past him at the stars. "I know the idea is irresistible, that there's someone out there who was made just for you. But how will your mate feel when she knows you've been flirting and kissing other women just to find her?"
"You have a curious view of fae nature."
My cheeks flush. It's true. The fae are amorous, and share their affections with many. Sometimes at once. I've never met a prudish fae, or one who feels uncomfortable in their skin.
Even in the Court of Shadows, debauchery is the name of the game. I've been witness to more orgies than I could have deemed possible.
But something about the concept strikes me as wrong.
"Perhaps Greenslieves is more backwater than I thought," I say softly, turning my attention to the food. "This looks lovely."
"I thought that if you didn't enjoy the company, you'd at least enjoy dinner." He's watching me again, as if making a dozen silent assumptions.
As I ladle a small amount of shellfish onto my plate and drizzle it with sauce, I cannot help thinking the opposite.
The company itself is quite intriguing.
And it cannot afford to be.
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